Keeping Secret (Secret McQueen) - By Sierra Dean Page 0,17

with sadness. “I’m sorry to hear you say it. But know this. The girl will always be my concern. She will never stop being important to me. Let go of your rage.”

“I will let go of my rage when she no longer has a pulse.” With that, Juan Carlos forced his way past Sig and disappeared down the hall, the echo of his shoes following him the whole way.

Chapter Nine

“You have quite the knack for attracting trouble, my dear.” Sig turned his head towards me and leaned against the wall again. “You bring out an anger in him that has been dormant for centuries.”

“Thanks. I guess.” I rubbed my bare arms self-consciously. “I don’t mean to make him so mad, you know. It’s not like I run around poking bears.”

“Of course not.” His lips quirked up in a good-humored smirk. “You are always innocent. Never tempting fate with an ill-timed remark. Never being the catalyst, the spark that ignites an already dangerous powder keg.”

I frowned and decided to change the subject. I didn’t appreciate his implications. They were too accurate. “Is the session over?” The closed door next to him looked ominous, reminding me of how I used to feel before my meetings with the Tribunal.

“They have some questions for the girl, and then they will deliberate.”

“How does it look for her?” What I feared the most was that my outburst towards Juan Carlos would have a negative impact on Brigit’s chances of becoming a warden. Though she didn’t say it much, I knew the prospect of belonging somewhere appealed to her. I would hate myself if I’d jeopardized her future in any way.

Sig pushed himself off the wall, stepping close and wrapping one arm around my shoulders, tugging me tight against his side. “Who can know what they will decide?” He smiled, rubbing my arm in a friendly, comforting gesture. From Mercedes or Brigit I would have liked it. Coming from Sig, it felt wrong.

“But—”

“She’ll do fine.” There was a finality in the way he said it that made me believe him.

He placed a hand below my shoulder blades and nudged me forward. A man of less substantial height might have grazed my lower back, but somehow Sig’s touch felt just as intimate, his fingers brushing the exposed skin on my back right above where the dress began.

“I want to show you something,” he said, pushing me past the doors. I found myself going without much hesitation. He could soothe anyone simply by being near them, and skin-to-skin contact seemed to enhance his special gift.

“What about Brigit?” A dreamy rasp had snuck into my voice, and I found it faintly embarrassing. It was the voice that should only be heard by a lover in the final moments between passionate lovemaking and the time when sleep sets in. It was not a voice for dark stone hallways.

And it definitely wasn’t a voice I meant for Sig to hear.

I cleared my throat and tried again. “I can’t leave Brigit.”

He smiled, but the gesture did nothing to mask the coolness in his eyes that gave me a chill. “You can and you will.” Then—as quick as it had come—the cold stare was gone, and he was charming, jovial Sig once again. “They’ll be speaking to her for some time. We aren’t going far.”

“Where are we going?”

By way of response, he nudged me forward. I guess we were done talking.

For a long time I’d thought the Tribunal chambers were the lowest level of the headquarters, deeper underground than even the subway stations. When I was elevated to my Tribunal seat, I was given the full tour and discovered the building had an unused sub-level deeper yet.

Where Sig took me was lower still, so deep I expected to run into mole people any minute. Or Gollum from Lord of the Rings. There was no light save for one torch that flickered low. Not enough oxygen down this far to ignite it properly.

“Are we tunneling to Jersey?” I teased.

“Not quite.”

We stopped in front of a door half as tall as I was, further solidifying my opinion that I’d stumbled into something straight out of the recesses of J.R.R. Tolkien’s mind. A heavy silver padlock was affixed to a heavy silver loop, keeping whatever was inside from getting out, and the whole wooden frame gave off a faint shimmering blue glow.

I turned from the door to look at Sig. “What’s this about?”

“This door can be opened by three people. One of them is dead. Given Juan